


burning away from inside

by littlelionvanz



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelionvanz/pseuds/littlelionvanz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam and Ronan get snowed in at the Barns for a few days and it's pretty much as disgustingly cheesy as you can imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	burning away from inside

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from '[littlething](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvMKIF-AdR4)' by jimmy eat world

Ronan had said, “We’ll only be here a few hours,” and Adam should have listened to that gnawing instinct in his stomach to not have gone with Ronan. But that same instinct was immediately followed with the understanding that Ronan would have been alone. And that’s why he could only be _so_ angry. It’s not as if Ronan had the ability to control the weather too. (Though Adam had told him - repeatedly - that the news said the snow storm was going to be worst in years and it was coming fast).

Ronan rolled his eyes, told Adam to come on, and Adam wasn’t really being forced but he went anyways. They had already begun their winter holidays and while he had the ever-present twinge of panic about not being back at St. Agnes’ in time to study and be up for school the next morning, he had to keep reminding himself that there was really nothing he needed to do the next day. It was hard not to panic about things this time of year - finals, college applications, clothing himself in the winter. Little panics stacked on top of bigger panics

He hated and also was so impossibly jealous of Ronan in times like these. He didn’t care about these sort of things because he didn’t _have_ to care. He could just as easily run out forty-minutes outside of town to his childhood home during a snowstorm just because he could. And Adam stupidly followed. Because Ronan had asked. But that’s how it was, wasn’t it. All Ronan had to do was ask.

And with Adam stupidly and blindly following Ronan into folly, that’s exactly how they got trapped at the Barns with radio and TV stations warning to stay off the roads and snow falling so heavy so fast, they could barely see the house when they finally got there. Even Ronan, who never used an ounce of caution a day in his life, drove extra slow and with remarkable precision.

Adam had said, “A few hours, huh?” when Ronan pulled up close to the front steps of the main house.

Ronan rolled his eyes and said, “Shut the fuck up Parrish and get inside before I leave you out here to freeze to death.”

They took a moment to brace themselves. Ronan pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head and Adam pulled his hands into fists so the ends of his sleeves covered his hands.

“On three,” Ronan said cutting the ignition. Adam nodded.

“One… two…” and on the third beat, both boys fell out of the car, slamming the doors shut and almost dying on impact from the wind and snow that cut into them.

They managed to get into the house with little trouble, Ronan yelling, “Fuck me,” upon entry and slamming the door shut.

Adam relished in the warmth that welcomed them. In only ten seconds of being outside, he’d lost entire feeling from his body. He’d forgotten how to breathe for a moment until Ronan pushed him into one of the rooms. It wasn’t very late in the day, but it could have been the middle of the night for how dark it was in the house.

The living room was just off from the main hall. There was a fireplace with a few dull embers still glowing. Adam shook the snow from his hair while he watched Ronan begin to tend to it.

It was always strange seeing Ronan in his own home as opposed to Aglionby or even Monmouth. This was his domain. It just felt so _normal_ for Ronan to be here - assembling woods for the fire, as if it was something he’d done a thousand times before. Which, as Adam dumbfoundedly realized, might have been true.

For the longest time, Ronan was so many things that wasn’t _normal_. A creature of the night who dreamed ravens and beautiful things as well as hateful creatures. Who drank himself nearly to death when he couldn’t stand to be himself. Who lived on the edge of a knife without care of abandon. He was pent up anger and aggression in combat boots and tattoos. He was an unquenchable flame in a snowstorm, as it were.

There was a beauty in that, but here, now, he was everything but _that_ Ronan. Shivering a little, birthing flames from embers and kicking off his boots. He shucked off his jacket and tossed it carelessly onto the sofa and pulled blankets from out of the hope chest nearest it. It was an old wooden thing that looked more like treasure chest than anything. Adam realized in that common, regular moment that Ronan was a fixture of this home. And that once upon a time, he really was just a boy who lived with his mother and father and brothers. Who lived in a valley away from pain and chaos and danger - but it had found him.

Ronan tossed Adam a heavy pendleton blanket, aged with use and stiff from being folded and kept away for so long. He pulled off his jacket, which was starting to get heavy from the dampness of melted show. His jeans were also cold and wet but he pulled the blanket tight around him and stood in front of the fire shoulder-to-shoulder with Ronan. He had his own blanket pulled around him, as he stared deeply into the fire as if mentally trying to will it to life. It did grow, the flames large in the deep red bricks, and both boys seemed to relax more into it. Eventually Ronan moved back to one of the large armchairs and fished his phone out of his jeans pocket.

“Gonna let know Gansey know we’re alive?” Adam guessed.

Ronan shrugged, “Nah, thought I’d let him worry just a little longer. Keep him on his toes.”

“Don’t be mean,” Adam said turning back to sit on the sofa across from where Ronan sat. He took Ronan’s jacket and hung it over the arm rest.

The sofa was comfortable and the blanket was very warm. He knew then that Niall Lynch designed and dreamt this house for comfort and living in. No wonder Ronan loved and longed for this place. Monmouth Manufacturing was where he _lived_ but this was by far the most _home_ -like place Adam had ever been in.

He closed his eyes for a minute, just a minute, to feel his bones sink into the cushions. He never realized how tired he really was until he sat down for just a moment. Adam had always been able to distract his body from noticing when there was so much work to be done, but it was so hard to fight it now.

Outside the storm raged on and he could barely hear Ronan speaking into the phone. Everything smelled like smoke and something old, like books or time.

 

When he woke up, it was hours later. He was on the sofa still, but laying instead of sitting as he had been. There was a small pillow under his head and his blanket was draped over him. Placed there. _I didn't do this._

The fireplace seemed to make the house glow and it radiated warmth. Adam didn't need his blanket anymore, so he pulled it off him and sat up. His bones ached from laying in one position for so long but he was grateful for the rest. He looked around for a moment and found he was alone in the room. There was faint rumblings and more light from the hallway.

Adam pulled himself up, rubbing sleep from an eye and followed it.

Ronan was sitting at on the kitchen counter, when Adam found him. He was eating a sandwich.

"Sometimes the caretakers grocery shop for themselves," he explained with a mouthful. "I made one for you if you want." Ronan casually gestured to the fridge. Adam _was_ quite hungry.

When he pulled the fridge door open, it wasn't remarkably full, but there was a sandwich as promised sitting neatly on a orange porcelain plate.

"Such a thoughtful host," Adam humorously mused, "Not letting me freeze or starve to death."

Ronan snorted, finishing off the last bite. "Like I feel like carting your frozen corpse back to Henrietta."

Adam took a bite into the roast beef on rye, "Have fun explaining that one to Gansey."

"Speak of," Ronan suddenly realized. "Got ahold of him."

"Yeah?"

"He got conned into holing up at Blue's. He took Chainsaw with him. I told him I’d fucking murder him if he didn’t. But I heard her in the background."

Was that the reason for calling Gansey in the first place? To check up on his bird? But he knew Ronan probably would have walked back to Henrietta, snowstorm be damned, if Chainsaw was in any sort of danger. Before Chainsaw, Adam wondered if it was possible for Ronan to love anything but he proved that twice over with the baby raven he pulled from his dreams. Adam wished it wasn’t as endearing as it was. But even he was relieved that she was safe within the walls of 300 Fox Way.

Adam then wondered if Gansey was disappointed by having to spend even more time alone with Blue. He doubted it. Even though 300 Fox Way didn't provide the most privacy. It was better than sitting in the cold steel of Monmouth. Adam was starting to notice them more. The way they looked at each other more, the way their arguments always seemed fo end in lingering looks and the slightest brush of hands against hands. There wanted there to be a part of him that was angry, but Adam could never finish the feeling. He was happy for them, whatever was happening.

Everyone was better when they got along.

"Well good thing he's not alone," Adam said simply, immediately biting his tongue from following with, _No one wants to be alone in times like this_. He didn't know why, but it felt like something he shouldn't have said. At least not to Ronan, who only nodded.

"Oh," Ronan hopped off the counter, "he also said that according to the news, we're getting the shit end of the storm."

Adam swallowed, looking at some fixture on the wall when Ronan looked at him. "So we're stuck here for a while?"

"Looks like it."

There was an unfurling wave of heat in his stomach that wasn't entirely unpleasant. He and Ronan were going to be stuck here, far away from Henrietta for a few days or more. He wanted to feel inconvenienced, to be disappointed, or frustrated by the situation. But what struck Adam as most odd was that for not even a fraction of a second did he feel any of that.

A weird small ounce of relief was bubbling right beneath his skin. But it wasn't just being here with Ronan. It was being away from everything else. Every panic and little panic was a distant echo that for once he was being granted the opportunity to care about _later_.

He used to hate winter breaks when he stilled lived with his parents. All it meant was more time to spend at home and being under Robert Parrish’s nose longer than necessary was just an excuse to unleash whatever anger he’d kept inside that day.

He was always cold and he was always afraid.

They were stuck in the middle of a snowstorm, in a house in a valley far away from help if the power cut or the water pipes froze and they could freeze to death before help found him. But for some reason, Adam couldn’t really feel that worried. Ronan wasn’t afraid.

 

Later, they were back in the living room. Ronan had taken to fishing out every single blanket and pillow he could find. The coffee table had gotten moved completely out of the way to make way for the construction of the old-time tradition of the snowstorm blanket fort. He’d found some twine out of one of the storage drawers and nailed two parallel strings from one wall to the other so that the the blanket, the one Adam had been sleeping with, hung over it. With two sofas acting as walls, there was only about three feet of height which meant they could only sit or lay beneath it. There was a comfortable nest of down comforters and thick pillows and sofa pillows.

By that time, Ronan had made the daring effort to the attic to find clothes that had been packed away. Old flannel pants and t shirts that had to have belonged to Declan, but he didn’t say. They were comfortable, the material fuzzy and worn.

“When Matthew was little,” Ronan had explained, “He was always so scared of the snow storms. Me and Declan would build a fort like this and keep him in inside, tell him stories. So he couldn’t see the lights flicker or hear the wind outside.”

Adam was laying on his back while Ronan was on his stomach. They were close.

“There was a time when you and Declan got along?” Adam mused. “I don’t believe it.”

“It was a long as fuck time ago, trust me, Parrish.”

So this is what Ronan was like, Adam wondered, when he wasn’t drunk or destroying public property or being his regular Ronan self. It felt foreign and new but also exactly who Ronan wanted to be. At peace? Calm maybe? Was this who Gansey knew before? Adam felt like he was being invited into a world only so few people got to see. Ronan was inviting him in.

They stayed like that while the storm raged on around them. Most of the night was sitting up telling stories and talking about Cabeswater and not talking at all, but neither were sleeping. Every so often Ronan would get up to add another log to the fire and keep the room toasty. Adam felt his eyes getting drowsy again and Ronan stopped talking.

He’d closed his eyes, pulling a blanket up to his chin and he could feel Ronan’s eyes on him. He stopped minding so much. His eyes always seemed to be on him when Ronan thought he wasn’t looking.

 _Just open your eyes_ , Adam was yelling at himself. _Just look at him_.

He felt frozen, unable to turn or open his eyes or move at all. Doing any of that would mean answering a question Adam hadn’t even realized he needed to answer. In this blanket fort with Ronan right beside him and the sound of the fire crackling, it felt like all Adam had to do was turn over. It felt so simple and yet, here was was, rooted on his back, his body singing and burning with tension. He felt exposed.

Ronan was never going to say anything, Adam realized long after he’d connected the dots. He never asked for the power to hurt Ronan, but somehow it had been placed in Adam’s hands. Ronan was free in his longing gazes, his unquestionable need to do things for Adam. Simple, small acts brought out from fondness, Adam eventually realized. But he knew Ronan was never going to actually admit to having a crush on Adam. Whatever this was between them, was enough. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t be offended at the things Ronan did for him. It was a mix of understanding Ronan’s motives as well as what it meant for him to be subject to such one-sided affection.

And he almost felt horrible. Like he was leading him on.

But that was odd, Adam eventually realized at some point in the night. Wasn’t it Ronan who led and Adam followed? That’s always how it was. Ronan asked Adam to follow and Adam always questioned it but it never stopped him. It felt like Ronan had just as much power too.

When Adam did finally work up enough courage to turn over and open his eyes, Ronan had long past fallen asleep. He was turned onto his side, facing away from Adam. They were still close. Adam studied the slope of his shoulder, his arm, the way his knees were slightly tucked in. His shirt had ridden up just a bit on his hip so that the muscle of his hip was just barely exposed and Adam couldn’t stop staring at it.

It only felt natural to cover Ronan. It wasn’t even cold anymore, however. Adam had just wanted to do it. It felt natural to be this close, as if this was how it should have always been between them. Adam felt himself craving and being drawn to the heat of Ronan’s back. Rolling onto his side, they were almost touching and Adam wanted to fit himself against every groove of Ronan’s body. There was the smallest shift in Ronan when Adam pulled the blanket over them. He didn’t want to wake him up.

When they woke the next morning, as the grey light poured through their cocoon, Adam’s front was pressed to Ronan’s back, an arm tossed over his chest while Ronan held onto it, keeping Adam there. Neither of them wanted to move and neither of them spoke of it.

 

The second day was spent playing phone tag with Gansey when cell reception would permit. The snow was only falling in flurries and the wind echoed throughout the house making it sound worse than it really was. Ronan was only a little more than slightly pissed off that the BMW was entirely covered in snow. With every passing hour, it became more and more invisible, making the reality of being stuck all the more understood.

They ate sandwiches and drank bottled water and Adam kept waiting for Ronan to get frustrated and annoyed with being cooped up inside all day with him. But Ronan never said anything otherwise and Adam didn’t either.

They spent the day playing hide and seek in the Lynch house, which truly made it an all-day adventure with as much hidden rooms there were. Ronan won the first few times either because he was always able to find Adam or because he was just too fast and made it back to base before Adam could get him. They spent the day chasing each other around the house, breathless laughter as they went. It felt like they were ten years old again and it was exhilarating.

When they tired of that, Adam found old family albums that Ronan threatened him with death not to go through. Which of course Adam paid no attention to. He enjoyed very much the chunky cheeked Ronan, with his wild black curls, in these pictures at various Irish cultural festivals or family holidays. He seemed so happy. And innocent. Innocent was more the word. He didn't know anything of dead fathers, deadly angst, drinking enough to kill himself. This little Ronan had a small blond child on his back with Irish flags painted on their faces. Even Declan was smiling. He looked back up at Ronan who raised an eyebrow and asked if he had gotten tired of strolling down memory lane. Adam replied with a swift "nope" and picked up another photo album. 

 

That night, tired, Adam was reading out of an old copy of _Frankenstein_ that he’d found when Ronan came in the living room with massive mugs of hot chocolate.

He said with a devilish grin, “Tell me this isn’t the best shit you’ve ever had.”

He handed one to Adam, who took it by the handle - ignoring how his hand brushed around Ronan’s. The mug was topped and nearly overflowing with marshmallows and drizzles of caramel and chocolate sauce with a few chocolate chips.

“You plan on dreaming me up a new set of teeth when this makes mine rot out, Lynch?” Adam took a sip anyways and it _was_ delicious. Impossibly sweet and hot. He’d never had anything like it, aside from the instant packs he had when he was a kid. But that was usually chalky and watered down. This was rich with chocolate and smooth with milk.

Ronan tried making a joke along the lines of, “Your hot cocoa growing up was what, your dad boiling his whiskey?”

Adam thought about it, but then he laughed. “Actually yeah he did that once.”

And then Ronan laughed.

“It made him so sick, he was puking for hours.”

Adam didn’t tell him that it also made Robert Parrish the meanest and most drunk he’d ever been and that he spent that night, six years old, hiding in his closet with his mother waiting for his father to inevitably pass out in a pool of his own vomit. But the stupidity of his actions was funny and Ronan’s laugh _was_ infectious. He had forgotten about that.

They laughed until their sides hurt and then they’d stop for a minute and start again and on and on it went throughout the night. It had to have been because they were bored but they fell asleep pressed against each other anyways and they still weren’t talking about it

 

The third morning, Adam woke up to the smell of bacon. The space next to him was empty and Adam followed the smell to the kitchen where Ronan stood in front of the stove. His sleeping pants were hanging low on his hips - or was it that the t shirt, another from the attic, was too small. Through the fabric, Adam could make out the black of his tattoo and he traced the lines from his place at the doorway of the kitchen.

He was staring at the hole at the base of his spine when the bacon popped loudly and Ronan yelled, “Ow fuck you too!”

He was rubbing the spot on his neck where the grease got him and Adam let out a small laugh. Ronan turned to glare at him.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Adam said coming to the stove and picking a piece of bacon off a pile from a place.

“It’s _bacon_ ,” Ronan said flipping a strip over. “And fuck you, I’m not a complete invalid.”

Adam laughed and Ronan punched his shoulder. They ate bacon sandwiches that day and still, they weren’t talking about it.

 

They spent the day reading each stories out of _Bulfinch’s Mythology_ and going through records of Niall’s old collection. Ronan had to dream a new record player cus Niall’s creation obviously wasn’t working. It was too quiet in the house, they decided. All of the music was old, Adam suffering Ronan’s eclectic taste from 30s southern jazz to opera to Irish folk.

There was a story for every piece of music - to it’s creation, the life story of the artist, where they got the record (some Ronan dreamed, some Niall, some dated back to the Lynch grandparents in Ireland). Adam listened to him talk because it was refreshing to see this side of him. It was obvious music was a passion of his but Adam had spent so much time assuming he just liked loud fast, angry music just to spite everyone. It had never really clicked that music was something Ronan connected with as a small child.

A Billie Holiday song was playing, crackling and so very old. She was singing about someone she loved and Ronan sang along. He was laying on his back, eyes closed and entranced. Quiet, just barely a whisper, his voice was a low raspy and Adam was absolutely captivated.

He sang the words, “ _I’ll always think of you that way_ ,” in the smallest barest of whispers and Adam was done. He felt his throat well from emotion and his fingers itch with need to touch.

Ronan was never going to say it, but he was saying it. He was saying it every day. All Adam had to do was say it back.

Adam was sitting next to Ronan and he couldn’t help but touch the side of his face, a barely-there press of fingers against the defined slope of his cheekbone. Ronan’s eyelashes fluttered open and he fixed himself on Adam. His jaw square tight and every fraction of movement from Adam sent a ragged breath through Ronan’s chest. Adam thought about Ronan’s plan of keeping his feelings buried inside himself forever.

He thought of his own subconscious decision to do it too.

It suddenly all felt so stupid.

Adam fit his palm against Ronan’s face, his mouth falling open just a little. It felt like such a natural thing to place his thumb there, just barely, to trace the dry skin of Ronan’s bottom lip. Ronan was frozen and he really was leaving his open heart in Adam’s hands to crush or destroy. How could Adam have though?

Ronan was beautiful. The most beautiful person Adam had ever seen. In everything he was, there was remarkable, miraculous, soul-burning beauty. He wondered for a moment, if that was love; finding the beauty in everything someone did. For anyone else who didn’t know Ronan thought he was just another fuck up with tattoos and bad language. Oh but there was so _much_ more.

He realized then, that Ronan was shaking. He was scared. And of course he was. Everything to do with sexuality, he kept at arm’s length and never let it be something he associated with himself. He was vulnerable to judgement and self hatred as Adam lived in every moment of his life. It didn’t stop his heart from breaking for him. He wondered who, in Ronan’s childhood, told him to hide himself. Adam hated him for it.

“What are you doing, Parrish,” he breathed, nervous and anxious.

And then there was no turning back. Adam smiled softly, letting his hand drift down to cup behind his warm neck and he said, “This,” before leaning down and pressing his lips to Ronan’s. All it took and they were both pouring themselves out to each other. Their touches were soft and cautious, touching and feeling and exploring.

Adam had fallen onto Ronan’s chest, being held there, kept there.  They were pressed hard against each other, their bodies in total alignment. And Adam let it. Ronan’s breath was hot in his mouth and he felt fire in his lungs. Their kisses were hard and full and full of want. There was no lead and follow this time. They were both meeting each other with the suckling of lips and pulling of shirts and skin.

When they pulled apart, Adam was smiling but Ronan wasn’t. His eyes stayed closed but his breaths were hard and labored. Adam pushed himself up on his elbows, as to not to crush him. It was like he was scared to move. Like he would open his eyes and Adam would be gone and this would have all been a mistake. But Adam wanted him to feel this. He leaned down again, letting his lips just barely brush against Ronan’s, before smoothing against his chin, then his jaw, and lower down to his neck where the skin was soft, warm, and exposed.

He kissed him there because he wanted to and because Ronan was letting him. He tasted like smoke and vanilla. Ronan was _so tense_ beneath him, a bundle of nerves ready unravel at any second. It seemed the more gently Adam kissed him, and the further down his neck he went, the more tense Ronan seemed to get.

He paused, looking up at Ronan who was now looking down at him through the hooded veil of his long lashes. He swallowed thickly, allowing himself a heavy exhale of breath from his nostrils.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Ronan took another breath, “Yes, _no_ , I just-”

Adam pulled himself up. “I’m sorry, I was going too fast I’m sorry.”

When he started to pull away, Ronan pulled him back. “Shut up Parrish.”

They didn’t kiss anymore that night. But laying together, letting hands drift over arms and torsos, interloping fingers and legs, it felt more intimate than anything. It _was_ the most intimate situation Adam had ever been in. He was laying on Ronan’s chest, his body curled against him.

 

The fourth day, however. They kissed. They kissed and kissed and kissed more. Ronan woke him up with the gentle press of his lips on Adam’s eyelids which made him smile.

Adam made Ronan coffee, and kissed his cheek while passing him the cup.

When the snow stopped and Ronan dragged Adam outside to sled, they fell in snow banks and abused each other with hardpacked snowballs and fell onto one another with lungs burning and kissing each other breathless. All because they were gifted the simple luxury of being able to.

That night they talked. The blanket fort had become their sort of safe haven where nothing could hurt them and the only thing that mattered was them inside it.

“Did you always know,” Adam asked, fingers absentmindedly strumming along Ronan’s stomach, “that you didn’t like girls?”

Ronan chewed on the question, but didn’t give it much thought. “I think so. Well, I always knew I didn’t, but I didn’t think I liked guys either.”

Adam believed him, wondering his own answer to the question. He’d always liked girls, and still did. But he liked Ronan too. He liked him more now, with his arm around Adam, rubbing circles in his back. But then it struck him as almost sad. To live in that state of uncertainty, the not knowing or not understanding something so crucial about yourself. Adam wanted to tell him he understood. And that it was okay. 

“Ever gonna tell Gansey?”

Ronan shrugged, “Well to be fair I haven’t really told you anything. It all just _happened_.”

Adam pushed himself up on an elbow to look at Ronan. “ _Will_ you tell me?”

“Fuck off I’m not telling you anything now,”

Adam couldn’t help but laugh and Ronan, who had been biting back a smile, let one slip.

“Maybe its just not Gansey’s business,” Ronan said quietly, “Or anyone’s right now.”

It grew quiet between them after a moment and Adam understood it. He didn’t want to go parading his business around town. The brash hard persona that Ronan carried about him was a fragile one. The barest hint of rejection or scorn from Gansey would break his heart. Adam knew Ronan could handle a lot of things and endured more than most, but he couldn’t take losing Gansey. It wasn’t even a question for Adam to wonder.

“And besides,” Ronan said then, “Once he fesses up about his hard on for Blue-”

“You’ll fess up about your hard on for me?” Adam said with a laugh and Ronan punched him almost enough to hurt but he laughed too.

It was dark in their fort, but Adam could almost feel the heat from his cheeks. He was embarrassed. This was embarrassing for him.

“I do dream about you, you know,” he said quietly, barely a whisper. “You don’t like me back.”

Adam felt the admission like a raw wound Ronan was exposing for him.

“That’s why I never said anything. I just thought-”

He kissed Ronan because he could feel the hurt in his voice, the idea of rejection was obviously a very real fear for him. The idea of _Adam_ rejecting him. It was enough to scare him out of ever talking about his feelings _ever_.

“It was just a dream,” he brushed their noses together.

“Felt real enough.”

“ _This_ is real, Ronan.”

This time Ronan pushed himself up and Adam waited for the heat and power of his kiss, but was only given the soft push and yield of Ronan’s mouth. It was so soft and so full of feeling Adam could barely stand to move. He didn’t want to. Ronan brought his hand up to cup Adam’s cheek, to be sure that this _was_ real and that all of this was something he could hold onto.

Adam wanted to give him everything because he deserves it.

With a gentle push, Ronan leads Adam to lay on his back. He’s cautious and so slow with his kisses now. Adam doesn’t know what to do with himself, scream or tell him to do _something_. He closes his eyes and can feel Ronan staring at him between kisses. He peppers them across his face, his cheeks and his forehead, while carding his fingers through Adam’s hair.

His attentions are agonizing and he feels this time, himself being embarrassed. Ronan’s fingers are caressing him all over now, hands sneaking up his shirt to fit in the grooves of his rib cage.  Adam felt every part of him that had been touched by Ronan’s lips ignite into flames.

He let Ronan pull the thin t shirt off and he realized in that moment that he’d never been naked in front of him, or anyone for that matter.

Ronan pulled himself up to stare down at him, his eyes baring into Adam’s skin. His hands were holding his sides now and his mouth was hanging open.

“What,” Adam said when it was almost a full minute of silence and Ronan staring at him like he was something special. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“You don’t see it do you,” Ronan whispered. Every word that came out was carefully chosen, like he'd been thinking about what exactly to say in this moment for the longest time. He didn't want to be wrong and Adam so badly wanted to tell him there was no way he could be. 

“See what.”

“ _You_.”

Adam shook his head. “What’s there to see?”

Ronan’s face softened into an expression Adam had never seen on him before. He didn’t know what to call it.

“Everything,” Ronan let his fingers glide across his skin causing goosebumps in his wake. “You’re everything.”

Adam began to arch into his touch, overwhelmed to his core and he wanted to feel _everything_.

He lifted his hips when Ronan curled his fingers around the waistband of his pants, and allowed for the easy slide of them off his hips. He couldn’t allow himself to feel the shame of his own nudity when Ronan was on him, mouthing up his torso to suck on his collarbone.

Adam gasped with the first touch of Ronan’s hand on him. It was a gentle, experimental touch. His palm was scorching and he felt like a million exposed nerve ends. His eyes were closed but he knew Ronan was watching his face, gauging his reaction.

“God _yes_ ,” he forced out to make Ronan continue. And he did, slow and sure in his movements. Long torturous strokes that he couldn’t stop from rolling his hips to meet. Ronan paused for just a second to yank at his own pants forcing them down over his hips and off. Adam was only gifted a second to see Ronan naked before he was on him again, mouth to chest. 

His breathing was labored and he couldn't help the weak, whimpering sounds that escaped from his parted mouth. He didn't care how he sounded because Ronan didn't.

“You don’t even know,” Ronan had come up and pressed his mouth to Adam’s. They weren't exactly kissing, though Adam was darting his tongue out to meet Ronan’s lips. “so beautiful.”

“Please _god_ , Ronan.”

It was just enough to make Ronan move just a little bit harder and a little bit faster and Adam was clutching onto him, digging his nails into his back; wanting, needing, all but begging him.

He was seeing stars and felt as thought his heart was about to explode. Ronan was touching him and that understanding alone was driving him  _crazy._ He'd always thought about touching and being touched but the participants never had faces, it was more feeling than details. But none of these idle fantasies came close to Ronan's hand on his dick, and grinding his own hard into his thigh. None of them came close to how utterly raw and perfect everything was now. He was arching his back and Ronan snaked a hand under him to hold him closer. Adam had one hand on his neck and the other gripping at the muscles of Ronan's back. He fought to make a kiss stick, they were panting and too distracted with everything else concentrate on another. 

Finally Ronan tugged Adam's bottom lip between his teeth, not even enough to hurt, and it all hit him with a strangled moan, throwing his head back and quaking. Ronan bought his mouth to Adam's neck and moaned _hard_ when his whole body seized all at once and he was coming too. The hot stripes of his pleasure hit him on his stomach and nearly up to his chest. Ronan kept jerking him off, but his movements slowly gradually until Adam felt so raw and strung out he could barely stand it and pushed Ronan’s hand off.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Ronan was kissing his face, smoothing his hair out of his face and pressing himself tight against him. Adam had opened his legs and let him lay between them. Ronan was bracing himself on his elbows so he wasn't crushing Adam. He looked so deliriously happy, color high on his cheeks and a grin tugging at his lips and Adam was lost in it. Finally, he laid down on Adam's chest and Adam brought his arms around his neck to hold him. He strummed his fingers over his head, pressing gently at the space below the crown, and Ronan was hugging him. 

They were so happy it almost felt like they didn't deserve it.

 

 

On the fifth morning, Gansey had called and said he was coming with a tow truck to bail them out of their snow hell. Adam had answered and said okay. He didn’t say that it hadn’t been hell. And that he didn’t want to go. The look of disappointment on Ronan’s face was hard to deal with those few hours waiting for Gansey.

They had to have known this wasn’t going to last forever. The real world was on the other side of the valley. Real life awaited them.

But this was real too, Adam told him.

“Can it stay real forever?” Ronan had asked.

Adam folded himself into Ronan’s arms and whispered into his shoulder, “Of course. Even if you are a shit bag.”

“Yeah but I’m your shit bag now.”

Adam laughed and Ronan hid a smile. "Oh great."

**Author's Note:**

> this ending felt super rushed so i might revise it in the light of day xoxo


End file.
